Three hours and half a pint later and Arthur was about ready for round two with that brainless dolt from the footie pitch.
Leon was sat to hit right, Bors and Kay opposite. The three of them were amongst Arthur's closest friends, and as such they'd accepted his tirade of complaints about his earlier altercation with understanding and good-natured amusement; it wasn't so often they saw Arthur get riled up about a confrontation with anyone, let alone a complete stranger.
"What'd you say his name was?" Leon asked, an eyebrow arched curiously.
"I didn't," Arthur returned, his sharp tone edged with a discontent. At their curious looks, Arthur let out an aggravated sigh, "He didn't give a name and he's new so no one's told me yet. Father hadn't even told me we were expecting anyone new today."
Leon shrugged, "Then I guess there's no point stewing over it, eh?"
Arthur nodded sharply, his thoughts shifting quickly to the upcoming match against Barton College with only an infinitesimal shred of reluctance. Although, true to form, as soon as he made the decision to plan for the game, he fell into it easily, his naturally tactical mind quickly cycling through ideas.
"Now, about the team," he said, and Kay muffled a comical groan. "Any suggestions for finding those new members we need?" he asked, looked at the others sat around the table. Leon ran a hand through his curly blond hair, shaking his head sadly; Kay shrugged, his brow furrowed; Bors, however, looked contemplative.
"There's a couple of guys in one of my tech classes-"
"Computer nerds," Kay scoffed, rolling his eyes and then looking sharply to the side as Bors gave him a light punch on the arm.
"I happen to be a 'computer nerd'," he reminded his friend. Kay rolled his eyes at that and Leon and Arthur fell into easy laughter as the others play-fought on their side of the table.
Sitting there with him mates, having a laugh, things felt like they'd gotten back to normal for Arthur, but he was still curious about someone willing to argue with the football captain for the sake of a physically-useless stranger. It irked him that anyone would challenge him like that, but even he had to admit a grudging respect for someone with those kind of morals. Especially on his first day.
Merlin awoke to the deceitfully jolly alarm tone of Lance's mobile phone, many hours too early the next morning.
He rolled over, burrowing deeper into the cocoon of blankets in his bed, trying to block out the sounds of Lance's morning routine. But it was a little hard to try and nod off when your roommate was singing along to 80s music at 6a.m. on a Thursday morning.
"Some of us are trying to sleep," Merlin ground out, his voice slow from fatigue and his eyes bleary when he poked his head out from under the covers. Lance was standing beside his bed, pulling on a plain grey t-shirt with his back to Merlin, he turned around and looked more wide-awake than Merlin had felt in his life; and the sun wasn't even fully up yet.
"Sorry mate," Lancelot chuckled, "it's hard to adjust. Not had a roommate in about a month, not since my last one was kicked out."
"What was he kicked out for?" Merlin asked, his curious nature asserting itself even while he was still half-asleep.
"Disorderly misconducted," Lance grinned. "In other words, he brought a couple of girls back to the room – all of them drunk – and while they were having a joint he somehow managed to catch the bed on fire. Campus police kicked him out the next day."
"Yeah," Merlin laughed, giving up the pretence of sleep and allowing himself to wake up fully, "that'll do it." He scrubbed a hand across his face, brushing the sleep from his eyes and running his fingers through his messy bedhead as Lance finished tying the laces of his trainers.
"Alright, I'm going for a run and then I've got classes until two," he said, "we can go for a meal in the mess hall at two thirty if you want? I'll introduce you to a few people, show you the best places on campus?" Lance was still smiling pleasantly, his brown eyes warm and earnest.
Merlin smiled back, relieved to note that Lance apparently wasn't doing it out of pity or a sense of duty, but just because he was that nice a guy. "Two thirty, it is," he agreed. Which meant he had quite a few hours to kill.
Other than checking he was signed up for his classes, he had a few additional things that needed doing: his mother, Hunith, had made a strongly worded suggestion that he go introduce himself to one of his professors before he started the course (apparently Professor Gaius was actually his uncle, though Hunith hadn't been on speaking terms with him for a while); he had an appointment to talk to Headmaster and Dean of the school, Uther Pendragon, at 11a.m.; and he was interested in seeing if there were any clubs worth joining – Merlin had the feeling he'd need as much support as he could at Camden and a few good friends might make all the difference.
Lance agreed with a nod, and then he was out of the room and Merlin was left alone in his new room at an unconscionably early time.
He rolled out of bed, and padded across the room to where his belongings remained mostly unpacked at the foot of the bed. With a sigh and feelings of trepidation, Merlin started unpacking the first box and began thinking about his new life at North Camden College.
Arthur had never been a patient child, and that particular trait had failed to develop over time.
He could still remember when he was young, perhaps five or six, and so eager to open his Christmas presents that he ransacked the carefully organised parcels under the tree on Christmas eve; suffice to say, his father had not been amused or particularly tolerant.
And although he'd failed to cure his innate impatience, Arthur had become accustomed to fulfilling expectations, so if his father planned on making him wait outside his office for an hour then he'd damn well wait for an hour.
Well. Sort-of.
After precisely thirty-eight minutes, spent sitting silently on the familiar leather chairs in the lounge that served as an antechamber to Uther's main office, Arthur decided that he had better things to do than waste his time twiddling his thumbs in anticipation for Uther's presence. This meeting with his father had meant he was exempt from three hours of his classes – the notes from which he'd probably be spending a majority of the night poring over in his room – but that didn't mean he'd spend half the time doing nothing.
"I'm just going to see if my father's available," Arthur said in an offhand tone as he strode to the ebony door. The diminutive assistant rose half-heartedly to intercept but fell still and silent when Arthur rapped smartly on the wood.
"Enter!" Uther called out in that booming haughty tone of command that had reprimanded Arthur all the way through his childhood – until he learnt better than to get on the wrong side of his irritable grizzly of a parent, that is.
Arthur twisted the metal doorhandle and clicked the door shut behind him, turning neatly to face his face and then walking calmly up to take one of the two leather chairs opposite his father's in the plush office.
Uther's expression was mild yet condescending as he watched his son, elbows propped up on the gleaming mahogany desk, fingers interlocked and pressed lightly over his mouth. To anyone else, he might've looked like he was deep in thought, but Arthur knew him better: he was annoyed, but only mildly so, and the rest of him seemed tolerantly considering; he was waiting for something.
"Hello father," Arthur said, fighting to keep his tone confident yet deferential. "I'm glad you could make time for a meeting."
Uther let out his breath and his eyes narrowed slightly, "Why have you just barged into my office, Arthur?"
"Because you wanted to speak with me?" he asked, eyebrow arched.
"Precisely. So don't you think that if I was ready to speak with you then I would've called you in?"
Arthur hesitated, and then spoke carefully, "I was showing some initiative. You have always taught me that to be kept waiting is a power play to-"
"You will not presume to deduce my actions," Uther said in a voice like bottled thunder and a thousand memories slipped through Arthur's mind: when he first lost a football match and Uther told him that in future he would either win or select a different sport to participate in; when he got his high-school grades, discovered he was only ranked in the fifth highest percentile and they exchanged fewer than ten terse words on the car ride home; when he went on a bender the weekend after his first serious girlfriend broke up with him and Uther's judgement hung over him for months afterwards.
"Yes, father," he said in reflex, his head lowered just a little.
"Now then," Uther went on, brusque and business-like, "I wished to speak to you about the new student." He pushed a file across the desk and Arthur looked down briefly at the page, his gaze flickered absently to the photograph and his eyes went wide open as he recognised the messy dark hair and barely repressed grin. Arthur's head shot upwards and he listened attentively as his father continued. "His name is Merlin Emrys. He's a mathematical genius, apparently. The board has given him a complete scholarship for the duration of his study here. I trust you'll understand what that means."
"Merlin?" Arthur demanded, still boggling over the name. Admittedly, Arthur Pendragon wasn't the most modern thing he'd ever heard, but what were his parents thinking naming him after a medieval wizard? That was just begging for cruel remarks.
"Yes, Arthur," Uther ground out, he shook his head slightly, "I acknowledge it is an unusual name, but I expect you to have better manners than to comment on that."
"Of course," he agreed, "but I don't understand why you need to talk about this with me?"
"He's on a scholarship," Uther said again pointedly, "and future students may ask his opinion on the experience when considering whether to apply. I'm certain you can ensure that his time here will be an enjoyable one."
"Wait," Arthur said, holding a finger up as his mind ran ahead of him, "are you telling me to make friends with this guy and keep him happy and content?"
"Not precisely," his father disagreed, "although you are to make certain he has everything he needs while he is here. I don't expect you to become close friends and spend time together, but you shall make sure no student causes any trouble for him and that if he has a requirement for his investigations you will make sure it's fulfilled." Arthur was silent, trying to reconcile the idea of that gangly, insubordinate from the pitch being the prodigy that his father was making him out to be. And that Arthur was some kind of ridiculous care-taker for him now. "Am I understood?"
"Yes, father," Arthur agreed after a slight pause.
"He should be here shortly for a meeting with me. Perhaps you ought to wait and see if he would like a brief tour of the campus while you are here?"
Arthur gritted his teeth and nodded sharply.
"You may go."
Merlin was going to be late. He knew he was going to be late because it was 11.15 and he was only just rushing his way up the last flight of stairs and along an elegantly decorated corridor to Uther Pendragon's office.
He knocked and the door was promptly opened by a small blonde-haired women with a tight smile. "Come in," she said, "my name is Ruth Sinclair, I am Mr Pendragon's assistant. He'll be with you in a moment, if you wouldn't mind waiting…" she gestured over to a small group of comfortable leather chairs organised around a coffee table on the left of the room; one of which was already taken.
Of course, Merlin thought, mentally hitting himself and wishing for an alternate reality to swallow him up, of course that self-important ass would have to be there.
He walked over to the chair, carefully monitoring his pace with the result that he tripped over some non-existent lump in the carpet and half-fell into a chair. Merlin sank back into the chair and finally turned his attention to the broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, blonde-haired son of the headmaster.
Arthur was leaning back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile on his face, his limbs arranged with a grace that Merlin had never been gifted with.
He wanted to say something, make some witty quip about getting into the college on talent alone, but he didn't particularly want to anger such an important student more than he already had.
Instead Merlin did his best to ignore the smug bastard while he waited for his meeting.
There was a buzz from the assistant's desk and then Ruth addressed him, "Uther will see you now. Go on through."
Merlin stood up, brushing his hands down his blue button-down shirt and newest pair of jeans, suddenly struck by the feeling that he was dressed far too casually for this conversation, before walking over to the door and stepped into the luxurious office.
The entire right wall was trophy cabinets and bookshelves, the far was a bay window that framed Uther and his magnificent desk with bright midday sunlight, and on the left was a leather sofa and a couple of matching armchairs. The carpet was pristine and looked vaguely antique.
He traversed the room and took one of the two available chairs when he was gestured to.
"Hello Mr Emrys," Uther said and Merlin was struck immediately by how commanding his voice was. No doubt this was a man who'd fought for everything he'd got in life and damn well expected to be respected for it. Merlin gulped in a quick breath and decided he didn't want to make this man angry.
"It's good to meet you, Mr Pendragon," he said nervously in return. "I was surprised that you wanted to talk to me so soon."
"Of course," the elder said, with a slightly forced smile, "we at North Camden College will endeavour to cater to your needs. I hope the campus is to your liking?"
"It's certainly big," Merlin agreed, "and, uh, very impressive. Everyone seems very nice…" he trailed off with the distinct feeling he was just embarrassing himself more with every word.
"Well, yes. Now, I hear you will be studying under the tutelage of Professor Gaius?" Uther asked and Merlin made a hurried nod. "Good. We expect great things from you, Emrys, so it goes without saying that if you require something you need only ask."
"T-thank you, sir."
"Feel free to arrange a meeting if anything of importance arises," Uther told him, and it sounded like a dismissal even to Merlin's thoroughly informal mind.
"Yes, sir. Thanks again for, well, everything."
"Very good," Uther nodded once and then his attention was on the papers on his desk. He began writing, not even looking up as Merlin stood from his seat and retreated from the room. As soon as the door was shut behind him he let out a harried breath and felt his tense muscles relax. At the sound of a muffled laugh he lifted his gaze to where Arthur had a hand over his lower jaw in an attempt to hide his grin.
A wave of annoyance swept over Merlin, "Thanks for your help," he said to Ruth and she smiled at him appreciatively as he exited the room and set off down the corridor.
"Hey, wait up," Arthur called and Merlin paused despite himself, half-turning.
"What do you want?" Merlin asked him, a little tersely.
Arthur looked, if possible, even more amused, and also faintly taken aback, "You're new, I thought you'd want a tour-"
"My answer is no," Merlin cut in, walking down the hallway again, a little concerned about how Arthur would take his instant refusal.
"No?" Arthur demanded.
"No," Merlin clarified.
Just. Go. Away. Merlin all but said aloud, impatient to be away from the self-important ass keeping pace with him as they descending the stairs.
"Why?" Arthur said in that same haughty, confident yet irate tone of his.
"Because," Merlin said, stopping and facing Arthur with a small smile, "you're either doing it because you are attempting to trick me and therein humiliate the new boy, or your dad has given you some order to try and create an understanding between us to make me happy." He paused, seeing surprise flit across Arthur's (extremely, incredibly, unfairly) blue eyes. With a sense of triumph, Merlin gave a more natural smile, "And I assure you, I am both perfectly capable of making my own friends and of finding a willing guide to show me the school. So, if you wouldn't mind…"
"Oh, believe me," Arthur said, his voice insulted and annoyed, "it would be my utter pleasure to never speak to you again."
"The feeling's mutual," Merlin offered.
Arthur twisted on the heel of his shoe and walked quickly down the ground-floor hallway, his retreating figure confident with head held high and arms not rigid but swinging loosely by his sides.
Merlin resigned himself to a growing chasm of dislike growing between them and set off in the opposite direction, hoping that his vague understanding of the site map meant he was heading towards Professor Gaius's classroom and not getting himself hopelessly lost instead.